


New Clear World

by NimbleJack3



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimbleJack3/pseuds/NimbleJack3
Summary: Jeanette signed up to fight the Red Menace, and became Specialist Crayton. Specialist Crayton failed a psych eval after ten years of classified operations, and became Jeanette again. Jeanette watched a nuclear bomb flatten her attempt at creating "home", and now she doesn't know who she is.





	1. Switchboard

**281632RJAN77 ANCHORAGE ALL CLEAR **DEFCON 3**  
**   
**230003ROCT77 COMPACFLT REPORTS 3 USOS OFF CALIF COAST, JSC ADVISE  
**   
Jeanette's breathing tightened as she read down the terminal's screen.  
  
**230337ROCT77 USAF HAS EYES ON SQUADRON OF AIRPLANES (POSS. CHINESE) AT HIGH ALTITUDE OFF BERING STRAIGHT  
**   
**230913ROCT77 IONDS REPORTS 4 PROBABLE LAUNCHES **DEFCON 2**  
**   
Her vision blurred around the edges, she couldn't hold back the tears any longer-          
  
**230917ROCT77 NORAD CONFIRMS BIRDS IN AIR **DEFCON 1**  
**   
**230926ROCT77 AUTHENTICATED ORDER -- RESPONSE SCENARIO MX-CN91 -- REPEAT MX-CN91**  
  
What a stupid, fucking, _useless waste of-_

* * *

Deacon quietly straightened up from investigating a box of old Railroad files when he heard and felt the crash. Moving on soft, soundless feet he slowly leaned to see through the doorway to where Wanderer had been, and still was. She was panting and staring at a broken old computer on the floor like it had tried to kill her. He leaned back out of view, then made a show of returning as if he'd never taken the safety off his gun.  
  
"Heard a noise. Everything okay?"  
  
Jeanette didn't turn around.  
  
"Yes. Fine."  
  
"Some of those tables just fall apart. Tom thinks the institute breeds rad-termites."  
  
She didn't respond. Jeanette carefully picked up her rifle by its' middle and walked off down the corridor, leaving the peeling paint of the prewar situation room behind.


	2. Variable Removal

The half-sunk university stank to high heaven. Jeanette tried not to inhale too much as she trudged through the sand, sidestepping a broken pallet as she made her way to the other black-robed figure on the rotting seafront. The courser watched impassively as she jogged up a set of mould-smeared wooden steps to his position looking over the ruined shanty town.

"M'am."

Jeanette tried not to let her skin crawl at the flat but familliar tone the courser used. She'd seen the sort of tactics they used. She'd killed people just the same, but she sure as hell wouldn't call it 'the right thing'. Not any more. For some reason the Institute had seen fit to give this courser a mohawk.

"FC-19. I'm here to report on your recon directly to Father. A project requires urgent intel from this area."

The courser nodded, but there was barely any of the little tells or movements that people usually had. The last time she'd seen this cold, disciplined, sterile bearing was long ago. In Taiwan. In Mexico. In Anchorage. In mirrors.

"Of course, m'am."

None of the parade-ground snap the Brotherhood had. With them, she could almost pretend she was playing with FNGs. Out here the soldiers had given up on discipline in favour of other things like being the last one left alive. No saluting superior officers. Safe houses ready to be burned at a moment's notice. A casual, easy indifference to how deeply devoted you all were to finding and killing the other motherfuckers first.

"Any sightings?"

The difference between then and now was that they'd never been as good as synths. No sleep, no fear, no hesitation. Just readiness. Forever. God knows dozens of special comissions had tried - drugs, radiation, surgery. Nothing but blood trails all the way to the incinerator doors.

"We believe there to be a Railroad cell operating in the vicinity of-"

In the end, trust was the most cost-effective tool. Make them think they have you, walk miles in their shoes, and they'll never even know it was you that pulled the trigger.


	3. Sanctuary Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preston bothers Jeanette some more after the refugees of Sanctuary Hills survive their first bandit raid.

"So, are you ready to help?"  
"No."  
Jeanette felt Preston's frown on the back of her neck as she tried to roll the late raider's cooling corpse over and unsling his rifle. Yanking the home-made pipe gun off his body with a grunt, she inspected it with a dissatisfied pout. Stupid piece of garbage didn't even have a safety.  
"Think of how many people we could help if-"  
Jeanette slowly stood up from the corpse, which was still wearing a pop-eyed look of terminal suprise at how quietly she'd snuck up on them.  
"Help your damn selves first. I hear a lot about defending the people, but I see no sentries, no irrigated farms, not even a damn windmill. I created functional electrical lighting in a gas station with a box of scraps - get your shit together. If you need help with your crops, ask Abernathy over the hill. They're pretty good."  
Jeanette sniffed, and grimaced.  
"And where the hell have you all been shitting?"


	4. A Peek Behind The Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon tells all. He's not sure if he likes it.

"You really wanna know?"  
"Yes, I goddamn want to know! Why the fuck were you following me? You've been here, there and fucking everywhere since I left the Vault!"  
Jeanette stopped and punctuated her sentence with a sudden gunshot into a Gen 2 synth that had been slowly and jerkily reaching for a discarded pistol.  
Her partner rasied his eyebrows and watched silently as she unloaded and cleared her smoking gun. She stuffed the half-spent magazine into a belt pouch, and slung her rifle tight against her chest and out of her hands.  
"Sorry, Deacon."  
"All good. I hadn't noticed him."  
"I just - stop with all the secret-squirrel bullshit. I don't want you to tell me you're an agent of Lady Luck, or that your telepathy picked up my thoughts. Just give me a fucking straight answer for once. I swear to god it won't hurt you. You earned it."  
She watched as something deep behind his eyes shifted slightly, like a rusted billboard giving an inch for the first time in years. He breathed out.  
"Okay. You wanna know?"  
"Only if you want. I shouldn't have tried to force it from you."  
"Thanks. I... was on a scouting op. An escaped Gen 3 had brought a data cache with them. Didn't even know what the thing was for, he'd been holding it and just left without leaving it behind. The reports on it mentioned a big Institute experiment happening soon. We had no idea what, of course - but we knew we wanted in. So I got sent up into the hills to follow the trail."  
"So that was your shack?"  
"Yeah. The reports were vague, but we manage to piece together the location and get there before things kicked off. We almost wrote it off - totally deserted, no syths, not even any people - but then the goddamn ground started sinking and we realised there was a vault hatch hidden under the dirt."  
"Holy shit."  
"Yeah. We watched you come back up with the lift, and stagger down towards the creek. You were a sight for sore eyes."  
"You have no idea."  
"Sorry. Anyway, we kept hands-off because we didn't know whether you were a synth, from a living vault, or even just some poor bastard the Institute had painted blue for a laugh. So I got told to follow you. The rest, as they say, is history."


End file.
